


Hands All Over: Aftermath

by Wellamyblake



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Blow Job, Cunnilingus, F/M, Hand Job, PWP, Swearing, canonverse, minimal terrible plot in chapter 2, seriously this is shameless zero plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-08-13 08:39:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7969882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wellamyblake/pseuds/Wellamyblake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So is this where you really wanted my hands, princess?” He teased, pushing his hands the rest of the way up and over her head, taking her shirt with them. She rolled her eyes at the smugness in his tone and decided, even as his hands returned to her breasts to pluck her nipples through her bra (fuck, that felt good) that two could play that game.</p><p>“I think you know exactly where I really want them,” she replied, proud that her voice barely wavered. Bellamy’s mouth froze where it had been sucking a spot on her neck, though his hands continued work her sensitive tits, and she felt his grin against her skin.</p><p>****Basically I wanted to write a smutty follow-up to Jade's "Hands All Over" because it's amazing and everyone should read it and I love Bellamy's hands and have no shame.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Hands All Over](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4855235) by [LaughingSenselessly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaughingSenselessly/pseuds/LaughingSenselessly). 



She should have been embarrassed by the fact that it had been the banal act of rolling bandages that had eroded the last of her restraint, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to regret her weakness as Bellamy returned her kiss with fervor, letting her push him roughly up against the wall of her quarters. His teeth pulled at her bottom lip, and she could feel him smile as he slid his hands slowly up her sides under her shirt, knowing the effect it had on her. She reached up to tug his hair in retaliation, but had barely applied any pressure before his fingers dug suddenly into her sides, lifting her just enough so that he could switch their positions. When he had her firmly pressed up against the wall, her hands still in his hair, his hands continued their journey north, finally palming her breasts heavily through her bra, drawing an embarrassing moan from Clarke. 

“So is this where you really wanted my hands, princess?” He teased, pushing his hands the rest of the way up and over her head, taking her shirt with them. She rolled her eyes at the smugness in his tone and decided, even as his hands returned to her breasts to pluck her nipples through her bra (fuck, that felt good) that two could play that game.

“I think you know exactly where I really want them,” she replied, proud that her voice barely wavered. Bellamy’s mouth froze where it had been sucking a spot on her neck, though his hands continued work her sensitive tits, and she felt his grin against her skin. 

“Well, I think that can be arranged…” He whispered, before returning his mouth to hers, licking into her mouth hot and wet as Clarke moved her hands down to the hem of his shirt, struggling to pull it up. If he was going to tease her, she was at least going to have a good view of him while he did it. Taking the hint, Bellamy took a small step back, removed his t-shirt over his head in one fluid movement, and dropped to his knees in front of her.

“This okay?” He asked, almost shyly, teasing the top of her leggings with two fingers while he laced the fingers of his other hand with hers in an unexpectedly tender gesture.

“Yes,” she nodded, looking down at him as he pressed soft kisses to her belly. “Definitely okay,” she clarified breathlessly as he removed his fingers from hers to tug both her leggings and underwear down her legs and off her feet in one stroke. Smirking once more, he leaned in to bite and lick a path up her thigh while his hands rubbed steadily up and down the backs of her trembling legs, much too far from where she actually wanted them. 

To keep herself from begging, she let her head fall back against the wall and gripped his wide shoulders. The harder she dug her fingers into the muscle at the junction of his neck and shoulder, the deeper his moans became. She had long appreciated his broad shoulders from afar but had tried never to imagine touching them like this, with him kneeling before her, until of course his fucking hands had broken the dam she’d constructed between her and her coleader. 

Speaking of hands, his had just moved abruptly to where his mouth had been travelling, parting her inner lips so Bellamy could lick a long deliberate stripe up her cunt. Caught off guard, Clarke let out a brief high-pitched moan, moving one of her hands from his delts to pull his hair, trying to direct his attention to her clit. He let out a breathy laugh and licked into her again instead, fucking her with his tongue until her grip on his hair tightened from a guiding into a grounding force. The broken groans he made as he eagerly ate her out – like he’d been waiting years for the chance - and the way his stubble rubbed against her as his tongued moved increasingly faster made her leg muscles tremble until she swore the only thing holding her up was his large hand wrapped around her thigh. She tightened her hand in his hair and he moved his lips to mouth at her clit, slow but deliberate. Just as she could feel her impending release, he moved his mouth back to her inner thigh and sucked the skin between his teeth.

“Bellamy,” she all but whimpered, “Please…”

“What’s the rush, princess?” He answered, voiced wrecked and even deeper than usual as his hands squeezed her ass and his forehead rested against her thigh. 

“Oh nothing, I guess.” She responded, the haze of her pleasure fading. “I was just under the impression that you were going to put your money where your mouth was. Or your hands where your mouth was, as it were.”

He looked up at her with dark eyes before rising back to his feet and bringing his lips to within a hairsbreadth of hers to whisper, “Why don’t you tell me exactly where you want my hands then, huh?”

She met his intense gaze as she dragged her fingernails down his abdomen. She felt his muscles spasm and his concentration falter as her fingers approached his waistband. “I want them inside me. I want you to fuck me with your fingers, Bellamy.”

His lips surged forward to meet hers, tongue licking insistently into her mouth as his fingers finally, finally slid down to her heat. He rubbed a few circles around her clit, but when she dug her fingers into the dimples of his lower back he groaned into her mouth and slid one of his fingers inside her. Curling his other hand around her neck (fuck, his hands are big) he stroked in and out of her slowly as she urged him on with soft noises, kneading her fingers into his back. 

Clarke had been fingered before in her life, of course, by both men and women (some more gifted than others), but something about Bellamy’s long calloused fingers rubbing against her inner walls sent her into overdrive in a way that being fingered never had before. She moaned as he added a second finger, trying to tilt her hips up to give him a deeper angle. He obliged, hitting a spot in her with his fingers that hers could never hope to reach, timing the quickening thrusts of his fingers in her pussy with the thrusts of his tongue in her mouth.  
His pace barely faltered as she reached down to palm him through his jeans, feeling how hard he was just from touching her. Clarke’s kisses became increasingly erratic as her moans grew more desperate and she neared the edge. Bellamy, feeling how close she was, added a third finger and used his thumb to rub tight, urgent circles around her clit. The added sensation of Bellamy’s thumb on her was almost enough to make her come on its own, but then he was kissing his way up her jaw to her ear and urging her in his gravelly voice,

“Come on, Princess, I can feel how close you are. I want to feel you come around my fingers, huh? Can you do that? God, you’re gonna feel so good around my cock. You’re so fucking beautiful, Clarke, you gotta come for me, babe.”

At his words, Clarke’s her orgasm coursed through her in a breathless, white-hot wave. Bellamy hummed, half in approval and half in arousal, and left his fingers stroking deep inside her as she clenched around him. 

“That’s it,” he whispered. He pressed calming kisses down his neck, fingers still lightly working her clit until she pushed him away gently, oversensitive.

“Fuck, that was amazing,” she breathed as she saw him raise his wet fingers to his mouth. She intercepted them, laving her tongue over his middle fingers before sucking them into her mouth. She met his heated eyes as she tasted herself on his fingers, and when she released them from her mouth she saw his Adam’s apple bob and heard the breath leave his lungs in a whoosh. 

“Your turn,” she whispered suggestively. She reached her hand into his pants to wrap them around his impossibly hard cock and give him a squeeze that caused him to involuntarily thrust into her hand. “Lucky for you, you’re not the only one who’s good with their hands.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Lucky for you, you’re not the only one who’s good with their hands.”
> 
> As soon as the words leave her mouth panicked banging on her door startles them both out of their lust-fueled haze. Muffled words ring out from the hallway.
> 
> “Clarke? Abby needs you in medical - now!” Never before did Clarke want to hear Miller’s voice less. Hand still on his cock, Clarke looks apologetically at Bellamy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to writer's block and the fact that I felt like Bellamy deserved his orgasm here's part 2. It became more..emotional than intended but im an emo bitch so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Once again, this is literally fanfic of @Laughingsenselessy's work so creds to Jade always ;)

“Lucky for you, you’re not the only one who’s good with their hands.”

As soon as the words leave her mouth, panicked banging on her door startles them both out of their lust-fueled haze. Muffled words ring out from the hallway.

“Clarke? Abby needs you in medical - now!” Never before did Clarke want to hear Miller’s voice less. Hand still on his cock, Clarke looks apologetically at Bellamy.

“I’ll be just a sec!” She calls back to Miller, eyes still locked on Bellamy’s. She hears Miller’s footsteps retreat down the hallway after he responds with his characteristic, “10-4.”

“We could just... “ She begins, very reluctant to remove her fingers from him. He doesn’t let her finish.

“It’s okay; someone needs you. There’s always later, right?” He doesn’t sound like he quite believes it - more like he thinks everything that just happened might disappear if she walks out that door - but she doesn’t have time to ask. She gives his cock a couple slow, sensuous strokes (which may be unfair, but she can’t help it okay? It’s just as gorgeous as his hands) and feels the groan vibrate through his body before she takes away her hand.

She readjusts her clothes, pulling her leggings up under his hungry eyes before she leans forward for a quick kiss.

“I’ll find you later, okay?” He nods, and she can’t help but steal another kiss before she opens the door, nipping his lip a little in the process.

“Okay, Clarke.”

************

When Clarke leaves medical, she is completely exhausted. Between the (long-awaited) orgasm at Bellamy’s hand and the gruelling surgery she’d just assisted Abby with, she’s ready to flop into bed. 

But before she does, she wants to see Bellamy again, in part just to make sure that what happened today was real. She finds him hanging by the guards’ post. When he catches sight of her, she sees him tense up a bit. 

“Hey,” She says, trying to gauge where his head’s at. “You on duty?”

“No, just making sure the newbies don’t fall asleep on the job.” She can tell he’s trying for casual, but his tone doesn’t quite get there. 

“Well, _I_ might fall asleep on the job if I don’t head to bed,” she responds. He doesn’t answer, and he still won’t quite look her in the eye. 

She reaches out to slide her thumb along the side of his broad palm. “Hey,” she says again, softer this time. He finally looks at her, eyes startlingly vulnerable. 

“Thanks,” she continues awkwardly, “for today. It was… good. Really good.” She blames exhaustion for her apparent inability to string two coherent words together. Of course it had been more than good. It had been _right_ : a culmination of everything she’s felt for him, everything she’s wanted. She doesn’t know quite how to communicate that sentiment.

“Of course, Clarke,” he murmurs, half a wry smile forming on his face. “Anytime.”

She nods jerkily and says her final good night. She can’t help but feel like something’s missing as she walks away.

******

The next day dawns bright and unseasonably cool, and the first thought she has is that she’d like to get her hands on Bellamy’s warm body. Or more accurately, get his warm hands all over hers. 

A rash of colds in medical and preparations for an imminent trade mission mean she doesn’t have time to seek out Bellamy until late in the afternoon. It’s the time of day where things around camp seem to slow of their own accord, with hectic morning business coming to a close before dinner and various night shifts get underway.

She finds him in Kane’s office, just off the Council chambers, poring over a map at Marcus’s desk. Knowing that Kane is at dinner with Abby, Clarke closes the door behind her. The click it makes causes Bellamy to look up.

“Hey, Clarke.” He still sounds guarded, and Clarke can’t for the life of her understand why. Her heart has felt as full as she ever thought it could feel again since yesterday, since they finally allowed themselves to touch and be there for each other in a way they’ve craved. At least, a way _she’d_ craved.

“I was hoping to run into you today,” She says gently, trying to feel him out. She now stands across the desk from where he sits. “I felt like we had some unfinished business.” 

She cocks her head, waiting for him to look at her. When he does, his eyes are full of inexplicable pain. His voice is strained when he says, “Well, you know how things are around here. Busy...trying to survive. I understand.”

Now Clarke is straight up confused. Bellamy has hardly ever brushed her off like this, and she can’t understand why he is now. If he didn’t want this, why wouldn’t he say so? Why wouldn’t he have told her yesterday?

She opens her mouth to reply, “Bellamy -”

“I said I understand, Clarke.” He stands abruptly, some of the papers sliding off the desk in his haste. He doesn’t look angry; just upset and resigned. “You don’t owe me anything. We’re fine.”

Before Clarke can point out how clearly not fine they are, he sweeps out of the room, avoiding her eye and closing the door sharply behind him. Clarke is left alone with her thoughts and her swirling confusion.

******

That evening, Clarke spends what must be an hour trying to sketch. She can’t seem to focus, though, and the previous pages full of sketches of large brown hands seem to taunt her. The hurt from Bellamy’s earlier brush-off has curdled into anger in her stomach so she shuts her sketchbook deliberately and gets up in search of Bellamy. 

When she knocks on the door to his quarters, she hears shuffling inside and then a pause.

“Who is it?”

“It’s me,” she responds. When she hears nothing in return, she lets out an exasperated, “Let me in, Bellamy.”

Though he doesn’t respond, the door swings open a couple of feet just seconds later, giving Clarke a view of Bellamy in the flannel pants and ratty t-shirt that serve as Arkadia-issue pajamas. All in all, not a bad view.

“What do you want?” he asks. He seems tired as he drags his hand down over his face, a tell-tale sign that something’s bothering him.

“I want to talk to you.” She raises her eyebrows. “You gonna let me in?”

Bellamy’s expression has turned guarded. “I’m not sure if that’s such a good idea.”

Clarke lets her anger soften and, deflating, tells him the truth. “I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep if things aren’t right between us.” He opens his mouth, presumably to deny that anything is wrong between them, but before he can speak, Clarke just says, “Bellamy,” in a knowing voice.

The look on her face is enough to get him to pull the door the rest of the way open.

Once she’s inside with the door closed, they resume much the same position they’d been in the last time they were alone in one of their quarters. Clarke leans against the wall next to the door while Bellamy stands across from her, albeit this time with a bit more distance. And, notably, Clarke’s hands are nowhere near his cock.

“Why aren’t you talking to me?” She jumps right into the issue, having no desire to beat around the bush.

“Clarke, I am -” She cuts off what she can already see is an automatic response immediately.

“Yes, you are, Bellamy. Look, I get it - if you think we went too far the yesterday, if you - if you regret it, you can tell me. But I need you and I won’t let that come between us.” The words come out of her mouth steady, but Clarke’s heart races at the sentiment. Truth be told, she’s not at all sure she can pretend like nothing happened. Not now that she knows what it’s like to have his hands - to have him - inside her.

But Bellamy doesn’t look relieved at her offer. The pained look from this afternoon has returned to his face. “I don’t regret it. God, Clarke - I’ve wanted -” He breaks off, looking at her desperately. “But I can’t. I can’t just fuck you.”

He looks at her like she should understand now, but she’s more confused than ever. “But if you’ve wanted it - why not? Why can’t you be with me?”

Bellamy’s frustrated look appears to be directed more at himself then at her. “Look, I didn’t realize how it would feel - that I wouldn’t be able to -” He takes a deep breath, seemingly trying to steady himself. “I’m sorry, Clarke, I thought I could touch you like that and not want - _more_ , but I was wrong. And it’s not fair. To either of us.”

Clarke’s pretty sure when Bellamy says “more” he’s not referring to sexual reciprocation (which she had obviously been willing to provide). The realization of what he means - what he’s been feeling - trickles down her spine like cold water. Her heart sinks. He doesn’t understand what this means to her. How much _more_ she wants, too. She can hear the gentleness in her voice when she responds, “Oh, Bellamy…”

When he meets her eyes, his deep brown ones are immeasurably sad. Like he feels like he’s disappointed her somehow. She can’t stand another second of it.

“Bellamy, I don’t just want you to touch me. I mean - I want that, badly, but - I thought you knew. I thought you knew how I felt about you. What you’ve meant to me, for so long now.”

Without realizing it, her feet have brought her closer to him, until their faces are just inches apart. His eyes bore into hers, looking both frighteningly hopeful and like he’s hanging on her every word. When she’s close enough that she can be sure he hears, she whispers, “I love you.”

The hope in his eyes dissolves into warmth and disbelief and he immediately puts his arms around her, one hand reaching almost all the way around her back while he brings the ther to tangle in her hair. Their foreheads meet and Clarke thinks she’s never felt so safe in a moment in her life. She can’t help the small laugh she lets out when she whispers, “I thought you _knew_. I’m sorry.”

Bellamy’s eyes have closed, and she thinks if they were open they might have tears in them. “No, it’s okay. I thought - I didn’t think you -” he opens his eyes to meet hers again. “I love you, too,” he finishes simply.

Seeing no further need for talk, Clarke closes the distance between them, starting off the kiss slow, lips slipping against each other, tongues gentle but wanting in each other’s mouths. When Bellamy deepens the kiss, Clarke slides one of her hands down off his bicep so she can cup dick through his flannel pants. He lets out a small groan when she leaves her hand there so he can grind against it.

When Bellamy breaks from her lips to kiss his way up her jawline, she reminds him, “I seem to remember my hands having some unfinished business.”

She can feel his smile against her neck. “Just your hands?”

Clarke feels heat spike all the way to her core at the thought of all the other parts of their bodies that have unfinished business, and her heart swells at the knowledge that they can have all of it - now or whenever the hell they want.

She pulls Bellamy up from where he’s nipping at her collarbone to kiss him. She finally slides her hand from outside his pants to inside in order to wrap around his length, whispering, “first things first.”

At the contact of her hand on him, Bellamy’s breath shudders out against her mouth, and Clarke uses his moment of weakness to maneuver him backward until his knees hit the bed. Before he sits down, Clarke uses both hands to rid him of his boxers and pajama bottoms. Once she’s got those off, she leans down to kiss him where he’s sitting on the edge of his bed.

Even as the heat builds inside her and the need to make him feel good grows, Clarke savors the slow, playful pace of their touching. With him sitting on the bed and her standing in front of him, he’s at the perfect height to slide his hands down her back, pressing deliberately into the divots on either side of her spine. And when his hands reach her ass, he isn’t shy about massaging it, groaning into her mouth.

While he’s distracted, she reaches for the hem of his shirt to pull it over his head, leaving him completely bare in front of her. The difference in their state of undress send a rush of heat to her cunt.

When Clarke moves to kneel before him, hand moving south down his abdomen, she meets his eyes. “This okay?” she asks, mirroring his question from the other day. He nods, breathless, watching her with an intensity which makes her loathe to look away.

But she does, because damn if she’s going to wait another second to get her hands on him. She licks her hand before gathering the precum at the hard tip of his cock and spreading it down the shaft. Bellamy’s head falls back at her slow, firm strokes up and down his cock, and his hand squeezes her other hand on top of his thigh.

“Clarke…”

When she leans forward to lick his tip while she continues to work him up and down, he gasps and his head tips forward again to watch her. “Fuck - Clarke -”

She thrives on his truncated groans as she takes the tip of his cock into her mouth and sucks gently, speeding up her strokes. The grip of his hand engulfing hers on his thigh is hard enough to bruise now.

Wanting to taste more of him, she removes her hand from his shaft and takes as much of him into her mouth as she can, sucking softly with her teeth tucked behind her lips. Bellamy’s groans hit a new pitch when she begins bobbing up and down on his cock and the hand that’s gripping the bed twitches. “Oh my god, Clarke, oh my god, yes, just like that…”

When she moves his hand on his thigh to tangle in her hair and takes him so deep she almost gags, he swears loudly and looks back up at the ceiling, “Fuck, Clarke, I can’t watch. If I watch you I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum babe -”

Clarke would laugh at how vocal he is if her mouth wasn’t quite so full at the moment. Spurred on by the glowing feeling of being able to make Bellamy pant and moan above her, Clarke puts her hand back on his cock, massaging his balls before curling it around the small part of his shaft she can’t reach. She strokes him hard and fast so her hand meets her lips every time, and she can feel him twitch under her.

With the re-addition of her hand, Bellamy is finally speechless, murmuring only her name has he comes into her mouth only moments later, hips shaking from the effort of keeping them still.

When he’s done, she moves her mouth so she can kiss up his thigh. Her efforts are cut off, however, when Bellamy none-too-gently pulls her up so he can kiss her. It’s almost desperate, like he missed touching her while she was touching him. He maneuvers her until she’s straddling his knee, and their kisses slow until they’re forehead to forehead, catching each other’s breath. 

“That was...wow,” Bellamy’s smile makes Clarke’s heart feel lighter than she ever thought it would again, and she leans forward to kiss the edge of his mouth. 

“I just like being able to touch you.” Her words come out a little less playful than she’d intended, but she sees in his eyes that he understands. 

“Well, you -” he kisses her cheek - “can touch me -” he kisses her neck - “any fucking time -” he pulls down her t-shirt to kiss the top of her breast - “you want.” He looks up so she meets his eyes. “That is, as long as I get to touch you back when you do.”

“It’s encouraged,” she responds, playful tone marred somewhat by the shiver in her voice. Keeping his eyes on hers, Bellamy moves his hands up from her thighs, over her stomach to cup her breasts. The combination of eye contact and his (goddamn) hands rubbing her nipples through her shirt makes Clarke painfully aware of the wetness that had gathered in her underwear when she sucked Bellamy off.

With her eyes still on his, Clarke grinds herself against his thigh, struggling not to let her eyelids flutter closed at the glorious pressure on her clit. Bellamy’s mouth parts and his gaze turns from hot to wrecked as he watches her rut against his thigh.

Breaking the unofficial staring contest, he leans forward to take her mouth with his, teeth pulling at her lips.

“You are so beautiful,” he says in between kisses, as his hand drifts down to guide her hips as they grind into his leg. “And you were wrong.”

“About what,” she responds, mostly preoccupied with the way his thigh flexes against her cunt. He smiles against her mouth.

“I should have known it was your _mouth_ you have a way with. ‘S given me enough trouble before.”

She laughs even through the daze of her desire, and thanks the stars that she gets to have this man, and his hands, with her for the rest of her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Join me in my garbage can on tumblr @wellamyblake


End file.
